Soul to Soul

My father was a soldier. Major Summers. He lead the fifth platoon in the war against Angola at the South African borders. Many young South African men died during that war. My father was fortunate to have made it out alive. Those who fought along side him say that he refused to leave with the medevacs even as he struggled to move with one leg. Even today if you should see his legs bare, you'd see where the bullet entered and where it exited.

My mother said he was a crazy man when he returned home. She never explained exactly what she meant by 'crazy', only that we were lucky to not have been born yet. I've read numerous articles about post-war depression an stress. what I've gathered sofar is that these men has seen things that are unbareble for the human soul. Things which the mind cannot deal with very easily. I remember asking my father about what happened at the border. He just shook his head and continued reading his newspaper.

After 1994, things changed in South Africa. It effected everyone. My father was kicked out of the military as a result. Everything went uphill for our household since then. We became so poor that the basic needs of any human being was considered a luxury . . . food included. We looked at our father for an answer and he looked away. He made a couple bad decisions and we ended up homeless. In that phase of my life I could not have hated my father more. I was young and he was my hero. Heroes do not fail you. My undeveloped mind could not make peace with the fact that my father can make mistakes like anyone else.

Today, I'm a grown man. I have a beautifull wife and a restless daughter who makes it her top priority to keep us from sleeping. As the years pass me by, I stumble and I fall. I make the same mistakes my father did. I realized that he loved us regardless of what wrong he done. Sometimes my wife and kid looks to me for answers and I find myself looking away. Ashamed. For I know that I could not reply without lieing or uttering words of falls hope. In these times I feel lonelier then ever. I think to myself, if only he was here to talk to. He'd understand.

When I think of my father and the battle he faught on Angolan borders and at home, I realize that he never had someone to talk to. He too felt lonely. I regret the hatred I had for him. I should have loved my father through that hatred. I wish I gave him an ear to talk to. I wish we talked soul to soul.

This made me cry it was so good I hope you have more so I may read. Hugs* good luck and happy writing!!!!!!!!
Soulkana<3

Hello! I did enjoy this story. It was emotive, though only to a certain extent. You see, you told us what happened. You didn't show us or give an example. There are definately steps you could take to make this more emotionally appealing. However, for now, here's a nitpick

Ashley529 wrote:My father was a soldier. Major Summers. He lead the fifth platoon in the war against Angola at the South African borders. Many young South African men died during that war. My father was fortunate to have made it out alive. Those who fought along side alongside him say that he refused to leave with the medevacs even as he struggled to move with one leg. Even today if you were to see (should see - scrap this ) his legs bare, you'd see where the bullet entered and where it exited.

My mother said he was a crazy man when he returned home. She never explained exactly what she meant by 'crazy', only that we were lucky to not have been born yet. I've read numerous articles about post-war depression an and stress. What I've gathered sospacefar is that these men has seen things that are unbareble for the human soul. Things which the mind cannot deal with very easily. I remember asking my father about what happened at the border. He just shook his head and continued reading his newspaper.

After 1994, things changed in South Africa. It effected everyone. My father was kicked out of the military as a result. Everything went uphill for our household since then. We became so poor that the basic needs of any human being was considered a luxury . . . food included. We looked at our father for an answer and he looked away. He made a couple bad decisions and we ended up homeless. In that phase of my life I could not have hated my father more. I was young and he was my hero. Heroes do not fail you. My undeveloped mind could not make peace with the fact that my father can make mistakes like anyone else.

Today, I'm a grown man. I have a beautifull one l wife and a restless daughter who makes it her top priority to keep us from sleeping. As the years pass me by, I stumble and I fall. I make the same mistakes my father did. I realized that he loved us regardless of what wrong he done. Sometimes my wife and kid looks to me for answers and I find myself looking away. Ashamed. For I know that I could not reply without lieing lying or uttering words of falls false hope. In these times I feel lonelier then ever. I think to myself, if only he was here to talk to. He'd understand.

When I think of my father and the battle he faught on Angolan borders and at home, I realize that he never had someone to talk to. He too felt lonely. I regret the hatred I had for him. I should have loved my father through that hatred. I wish I gave him an ear to talk to. I wish we talked soul to soul.

All-in-all, this was alright. No spark for me, unfortunately! Keep writing!
~ Amelia

I just read your other one. You sure are on a eulogies-that-start-with-song-lyrics trip. You might want to try something different, because it becomes rather predictable.

It effected everyone

The verb is "affected." "Effect" with an E is a noun. Like "side effects."

My father was kicked out of the military as a result. Everything went uphill for our household since then.

I think you mean "downhill." If the status of something goes downhill, it means it got worse. Going uphill is only really used when talking about a daunting/difficult task. Like an "uphill battle."

He made a couple bad decisions and we ended up homeless.

Any elaboration? You can't just glaze over it and expect us to believe it.

He made a couple bad decisions and we ended up homeless. In that phase of my life I could not have hated my father more. I was young and he was my hero. Heroes do not fail you. My undeveloped mind could not make peace with the fact that my father can make mistakes like anyone else.

Today, I'm a grown man.

That was a sudden change. You skipped right over how they got survived living homeless without food. That's kind of like cheating.

I have a beautifull wife

Typo. Extra L.

As the years pass me by, I stumble and I fall. I make the same mistakes my father did

Again, you're just glossing over the facts and expecting us to believe you. I doubt he made the same mistakes because 1) he's not crazy 2) didn't lose his job (or maybe he did) 3) didn't make them all homeless (or maybe he did). So give us something to chew on. Don't just assault us with words that you expect us to believe.

words of falls hope

"False hope" you mean.

Then you close with song lyrics again. It's kind of lazy, really, to expect the song lyrics to do the talking for you. Take the time to tell us how you truly feel. Take the time to explore the depths of your characters' emotions on your own. Don't just gloss over the facts, give us specific examples.

My father was a soldier. Major Summers. He lead the fifth platoon in the war against Angola at the South African borders. Many young South African men died during that war. My father was fortunate to have made it out alive. Those who fought along side him say that he refused to leave with the medevacs even as he struggled to move with one leg. Even today if you should see his legs bare, you'd see where the bullet entered and where it exited.

My mother said he was a crazy man when he returned home. She never explained exactly what she meant by 'crazy', only that we were lucky to not have been born yet. I've read numerous articles about post-war depression an stress. what Capitalize the W in what. I've gathered sofar So far, not sofar is that these men has Haveseen things that are unbareble for the human soul. Things which the mind cannot deal with very easily. I remember asking my father about what happened at the border. He just shook his head and continued reading his newspaper.

After 1994, things changed in South Africa. It effected everyone. My father was kicked out of the military as a result. Everything went uphill Downhill would be correct here.for our household since then. We became so poor that the basic needs of any human being was considered a luxury . . . food included. We looked at our father for an answer and he looked away. He made a couple bad decisions and we ended up homeless. In that phase of my life I could not have hated my father more. I was young and he was my hero. Heroes do not fail you. My undeveloped mind could not make peace with the fact that my father can make mistakes like anyone else.

Today, I'm a grown man. I have a beautifull One L in beautiful wife and a restless daughter who makes it her top priority to keep us from sleeping. As the years pass me by, I stumble and I fall. I make the same mistakes my father did. I realized that he loved us regardless of what wrong he done. Sometimes my wife and kid looks to me for answers and I find myself looking away. Ashamed. For I know that I could not reply without lieing or uttering words of falls hope. In these times I feel lonelier then ever. I think to myself, if only he was here to talk to. He'd understand.

When I think of my father and the battle he faught Fought, not faughton Angolan borders and at home, I realize that he never had someone to talk to. He too felt lonely. I regret the hatred I had for him. I should have loved my father through that hatred. I wish I gave him an ear to talk to. I wish we talked soul to soul.

Other than those few little things, wonderful job. I really enjoyed this short story.